


hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

by brian_zeller



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Brief Depictions of Violence, Case Fic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, The opposite of slowburn, generally awkward and uncomfortable, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brian_zeller/pseuds/brian_zeller
Summary: “It’s the same one,” Zeller said, removing the rest of the sheet to reveal the cut-open stomach. All the organs had been removed, replaced with various sugary objects. The strong smell of sugar and embalmment assaulted their noses, making Will Graham really wish he was at home with his dogs.“He didn’t seem to like this one,” Price half-chuckled, “filled him with Payday’s and Babe Ruth’s. Not his usual Kit-Kat’s and Hershey bars.”Will and Chilton are both incredibly desperate people.





	hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> title taken, fittingly, from marina and the diamond's "bubblegum bitch"
> 
> this bad boy has taken at least six months now, and i am so glad to finally put it into the world.  
> thank you so much to my best friend, abby, who edited this and fixed my many mistakes.
> 
> bonus: [here's my playlist for this!](https://8tracks.com/aaronabrams/hit-me-with-your-sweet-love-steal-me-with-a-kiss)

It had all been _so_ easy, it was almost laughable. Evading the FBI, sneaking right under their noses and rubbing it in afterwards. Holding an esteemed position—make that _two_ esteemed positions. They’d never suspect a thing, they’d never catch him. Sometimes he pitied them, that they were so dense, so stuck in their ways.

Other days he wanted to just slit their throats, when they looked down on him. Thought him to be beneath them, looked at him like he was a weasel and they were a pack of dogs. He wanted to crash into Jack Crawford’s cushy home and rip his bones out one-by-one, make his wife watch and look him in the eye and say, ‘ _you never could catch me, Jack, guess I’m not so dumb now’_ . He could imagine all the vivid color and detail of Jack Crawford’s death. It’d be _so easy_ . And so very satisfying. Watching the life drain from his eyes, feeling his blood drying on his own fingertips, setting himself up to get caught. Jack would count, he’d be the only one _to_ count.  He would show them, force them to see his true form, finally.

He was setting himself up for the grand finale.

* * *

The phone rang beside Will, waking him up from another restless night of sleep. _I don’t want to deal with this, I could just ignore Jack, never pick up the phone again and just disappear,_ he thought to himself, _wouldn’t that be nice._

Instead, he mentally cursed his boss, picked up the phone, and resisted the urge to pound his head into a wall the minute the man on the other line said, “We need you at the station. Come quick.”

On the way there, he wanted to crash his car into a tree, didn’t want to deal with what would be another knot in the rope of murders, likely from the same person. He didn’t want to imagine killing the now lifeless body on the table, didn’t want to go through the signature motions of the serial killer he and the FBI were hunting down. Didn’t need that.

He wanted to immediately walk out of the station upon seeing a young man on the metal table and Jack, with his signature scowl and arms crossed, standing by the man’s feet. _Too late now_.

“Will, so glad you could join us,” Jack barked, and oh, who wouldn’t want to take the scalpel and throw it at him, make him shut up for once in his life. Will merely forced a smile as he glanced over the corpse.

“What seems to be the situation?” he asked, turning to Price and Zeller as they scrambled over themselves to deliver the facts of the case.

“It’s the same one,” Zeller said, removing the rest of the sheet to reveal the cut-open stomach. All the organs had been removed, replaced with various sugary objects. The strong smell of sugar and embalmment assaulted their noses, making Will Graham _really_ wish he was at home with his dogs.

“He didn’t seem to like this one,” Price half-chuckled, “filled him with _Payday’_ s and _Babe Ruth_ ’s. Not his usual _Kit-Kat_ ’s and _Hershey_ bars.”

“Hey some of us like _Payday’_ s,” Zeller argued, a smile on his face as he watched Price roll his eyes at his side.

“Are you saying you filled this man’s stomach with your favorite candy bars?” Price retorted, shoving the younger man aside to hand Will the file.

“Never said I liked _Babe Ruth’_ s,” Zeller muttered under his breath, leaving Price with a victorious smile on his face.

“Any leads from it?” Will asked, hoping to derail their flirting.

“One that could be promising,” Beverly answered. “Medical background, has a link to the victim.”

“Someone who didn’t like them? Hence, the disliked candy in him,” Will suggested, as Zeller put the sheet back over the victim, Victor White. There wasn’t anything new about him: organs neatly snatched by the killer as a postmortem prize, to be replaced with candy and eaten, or hung somewhere in the killer’s home. Knife wounds showed that he was killed in the same manner as the other two victims. That was done messier, only the removal done neatly. All signatures of the person he and the FBI were looking for.

“Who is it?” Will asked.

“Dr. Frederick Chilton,” Beverly responded.

“The same one who runs the Baltimore State Hospital?” he clarified, handing the folder back to Jack and making sure not to make eye contact with him.

“That’d be him. Medical background, not well liked,” Beverly said.

“What’s the connection then? How’d they know each other?”

“ _Intimately,_ ” Jack said under his breath, causing Will to turn and give him a puzzled look. Something in his tone of voice threw the man off.

“Mr. White here was Chilton’s ex. We found photos of the two of them in his apartment, while searching for clues. They were in a box, under his bed. Leading us to believe it wasn’t a current relationship to say the least,” Price clarified.

Will nodded. “Time to give Dr. Chilton a visit then.”

__________

Will had never liked walking into mental hospitals, always felt like they’d never let him leave once he stepped foot inside. Sometimes he felt, on his normal visits to the Baltimore State Hospital, that Jack lured him in on purpose, ready to hand him over to Dr. Chilton and his ring of psychiatrists to let them pick at his brain. See how the FBI’s ‘wonder boy’ did it, how he solved the crimes, pieced together the clues they couldn’t. No one would put it past Jack, to say the least.

After getting his visitor badge, Will headed towards Dr. Chilton’s office, finding it somewhat easily, having been to his office for previous cases. He knocked once, and before his knuckles hit the door again it was already swinging open, revealing the general administrator.

“Will Graham, how nice to see you again.” Chilton smiled, letting Will into his office. He was dressed in his normal formal attire, more for presentation than actual preference. Everything about him screamed: _Like me! Won’t you please like me?_ Typical behavior of someone so disparaged and distrusted. Will wouldn’t have put it past him to have finally snapped, once and for all.

“You too, Dr. Chilton,” Will replied in a bored tone, past wanting to deal with small pleasantries. “You do know why I’m here, _right,_ Frederick?”

“You believe me to be a suspect in the murder of my ex-boyfriend, _right,_ Will?” Chilton responded, a greasy smirk on his face and his eyes shining with blind arrogance. It wouldn’t work for Frederick to mock Will when he was the prime suspect.

“Very good, Frederick.” Will looked at him, meeting his eyes for the briefest of seconds before turning away again. “Not so bad for someone with such a bad reputation among others.”

Will saw him twitch just briefly out of anger, giving Will the reaction he needed from the other man. He didn’t deal well with people vocalizing their dislike of him.

“If you’re so inclined to know, Mr. Graham, _I_ broke it off with _him._ Hardly motive to kill, don’t you think?”

“Depends, why’d you break it off?” Will asked, testing his movements of self-consciousness. He shifted his weight to the less dominant foot, his breath hitching as he searched his brain for an answer.

“We wanted different things,” Chilton settled on, lamely, after a moment of deliberation.

“Like what, Frederick? Better to tell me more details than not.”

“I’m the prime suspect, aren’t I?” he asked, his voice weaker and smaller than it was when Will had entered his office.

“Why’d you break it off, Frederick?” Will asked again, looking over his extensive medical books.

“He proposed, and I was just getting started here. Chose to focus on my career instead, so I turned him down and ended things. I knew I didn’t want marriage,” Chilton replied. “It was never meant to be that serious of a relationship.”

“Would you say it ended on good terms?”

“No.” Chilton chuckled. “He threw an empty beer bottle at the door when I left and told me I’d never go on to accomplish anything. He wasn’t the most _supportive_ of boyfriends, to put it nicely.”

Will looked at him, still chuckling as if it was a fond memory.

“He abused you,” Will stated flatly, waging how he’d respond to that as well.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle, Mr. Graham.” His jaw was locked tight, and he shifted his feet again. “I can assure you though, I didn’t kill Victor.”

Will inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to laugh at Chilton. “I never said you did.”

“Yes, but Jack Crawford did. Or at least him and his little team—including you— _thought_ I might’ve,” Chilton responded, clearly annoyed.

“Well, if you didn’t, then _who_ did?” Will challenged Chilton, watching the gears turn in his head, to peg the blame on someone else, to get him out of the unflattering spotlight.

“I can’t say I know. But I can check for any suspicious people at Victor’s funeral, if that helps?” Chilton offered, raising an eyebrow. Will was caught slightly off guard to hear that Chilton would attend his ex’s funeral.

“Sure, Dr. Chilton. That’ll be all for today.”

Chilton looked pleased with himself. “It was good to see you again, Mr. Graham. Feel free to stop by anytime you need help.” He gave Will a smarmy smile.

Will avoided shaking his hand, and headed straight to the door without answering.

* * *

 

“Oh, Will, you were so close,” Chilton said, laughing to himself as he poured a glass of wine within the comforts of his home. Within the clear glass swirled the red liquid, sloshing from left to right as it was poured. Deep red, more peppery than the iron smell of Victor’s blood.

 _That_ was satisfying, appearing by Victor’s bedside in the dark of night, Chilton’s plastic suit making only the faintest of noises, but not enough to wake the man. Quietly and quickly he had pushed the knife through his neck, watched as his eyes recognized Frederick, seeing the betrayal and anger.

His mouth opened, as if to say his name, to ask for forgiveness. But it was over in seconds, no time to forgive the man for years of damage, for saying, “You’ll never _be_ anything, Frederick, not without _me_ .”  But now Chilton _was_ something without him. He got out, and he got his revenge.

He checked the steaming asparagus, the boiling potatoes, stopping every so often to swirl and sip from the wine glass, wishing there was someone to share his victory with. To not be so alone, sometimes.

“What do you think of Mr. Graham?” he asked his cat, as she dozed by the window. “I think he could do.”

She merely gave a _hrmpf_ as she turned away from him, ignoring his question.

Yes, Will would do nicely. Not for a victim but for company. Someone to share a laugh with, to make Frederick forget how cruel the world was once in a while.

Now, he just needed a plan.

* * *

 

“So, Dr. Chilton is the main suspect then?” Hannibal asked Will, sniffing the white wine in his hand. He looked almost pleased at the prospect of Chilton being locked up. Seeing his face behind the same bars he ran.

“I’m not sure.” Will paused, stretching back against the leather chair. “He certainly had the motive, at least for Victor—the last one—but not so much the other two.”

“Oh,” Hannibal spoke slowly, “so no connection then.”

“Nope.” Will sighed, unsure if he too believed Hannibal’s claims against Chilton. Certainly there was some evidence stacking up against him. But deep down, Will was even more unsure of his own motives, wondering if he wanted to see Chilton locked up just to make Hannibal proud. “There also seems to be no connection between the victims. Of course, outside of their shared fate.”

From behind his wine glass, Hannibal watched Will and waited for him to say more about the case. Will didn’t necessarily _enjoy_ coming to see Dr. Lecter, but it was Jack’s protocol for helping him sleep at night, knowing Will had some form of an outlet when it started to get to be too much. While sometimes it was useful, most times Will wanted to smash Hannibal’s $100 wine bottles over his head, to watch the stains form on his luxurious 3-piece suit.

“Maybe you should call for his attention. Let him know you’re waiting for whoever he is to make his next move,” Hannibal suggested.

“How do you propose we do that?” Will asked, guessing what Hannibal was going to suggest and hoping he wouldn’t.

Hannibal simply smiled and the hour was done.

“Freddie Lounds,” Will muttered to himself, dialing the number on his way out of Hannibal’s office.

* * *

He picked up the latest copy of _The Tattletale_ , only to be met with the urge to rip it apart.

“ _The Easter Bunny_ ?!”  Chilton yelled, rifling through the paper to the story about _him._

“ _The rising serial killer, the Easter Bunny, goes around in the middle of the night and leaves candy for his victims. He neatly removes their internal organs and places still-wrapped candy bars inside of the space he vacates. Jack Crawford, the FBI’s head of behavioral unit, is working alongside Will Graham, the man who thinks like a killer (could_ he _be the Easter Bunny?), to catch the killer, only to be met with no luck. Currently, the Easter Bunny has three victims, but who’s to say there won’t be more?_

_Check back each week for developments in the story.”_

“Can you believe it?” He turned to his cat, and she watched him with wide eyes. “They named me the _Easter Bunny_ , out of all the names in the world!” He threw the paper in the recycling bin. “You just had to leave candy bars behind, didn’t you, Frederick. Needed the extra flair.”

* * *

“There’s another body,” Jack spoke into the phone, at 4 a.m. “Come quick, you’re going to want to see this.”

Will groaned, stretching out and scratching Winston’s ears before heading out. His headlights shone on the black stretch of road, and his mind wandered aimlessly, imagining what he was going to be met with this time.

__________

“Someone has a special admirer,” Jimmy half-smiled as he uncovered the body, filled to the brim with M&M’s and a small piece of paper.

“He left me a note,” Will breathed, grabbing the paper. Zeller and Katz watched him, waiting for Will to finish reading it.

Will,

_You’ll see I left you a gift. I hope you liked these candies. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked but this seemed to be a safe bet._

_I see you spoke to Freddie Lounds, was that for me? I’m honored, and quite frankly, a little embarrassed to be getting all this attention now._

_I only want your attention._

_I really hate that name Miss Lounds gave me. A little tacky don’t you think? Guess I should embrace it now though._

_Yours,_

_The Easter Bunny_

“So, is it a clue then? Is this _The Easter Bunny_ ’s writing?” Jack asked Will, and he looked over the rushed script once more.

“No,” Will said, and the team looked defeated; the first real good clue they had was gone. “Go back to the victim’s place and search for any grocery lists or to do lists, see if it matches this handwriting.”

“You think the victim, the dead guy, wrote this note for you?” Zeller asked, slight annoyance in his tone as he gave Will a puzzled look.

“I think the killer made the victim write this, yes,” Will replied.

Zeller looked like he was going to say something else before Jack shooed him, Price and Katz away. Afterwards, Jack folded his arms, staring at Will sternly while doing so. Will looked at the victim, a man in his late 30’s or early 40’s, starting to bald.

“This one’s different,” he told Jack, “why?”

Jack sighed before telling him, “He had a wife and two daughters.”

“They’re not, _here_ are they?” Will asked, giving him a pointed look.

Jack simply shook his head.“They were out of town when it happened. We contacted them and they’re on their way back. Somehow our killer knew they’d be gone.”

Will nodded solemnly. “Or, he just got lucky.”

Jack looked at him, giving the slightest nod. “Maybe they just got lucky.”

__________

The wife had fresh tear tracks down her face, as if she had been crying the entire journey home. She had sent the daughters upstairs when Will had arrived, making sure they couldn’t hear what the two of them were discussing.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Daniels,”  he said, as she handed him a cup of tea and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.

“I just can’t imagine who would do a thing like this to Jeff, he was such a kind man,” she spoke, broken and upset.

“Is there anyone, though, who might not have liked him?” Will asked. “I just want to help find the person who did this to him.”

“I mean,” she began, “he was a pretty well known critic, he reviewed a lot of academic source material for the Criminal Justice and Psychology classes at the University of Maryland. He was a fair reviewer.”

“What were some books he recently reviewed?” Will asked, then paused and added, “Anything by a Dr. Frederick Chilton?”

She thought for a moment before getting up and heading down the hall. He sipped the tea, waiting for her return. After a moment she came back and handed him Chilton’s book.

“This one?” She grabbed her tea.

“Yes, thank you,” He began leafing through Chilton’s book, a hardcover still in good condition.“You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of his review, would you?”

“Yes, I’ll go print it out for you,” She rose again, and he gave her a small smile of thanks and finished his tea. When she handed him the paper, still warm, he gave her the teacup back and got to his feet.

“Thank you for your time,” Will pressed a hand to her shoulder, trying to comfort her. She was still clearly emotional. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

She merely nodded, a weak smile on her face as she showed him out.

__________

_Dr. Frederick Chilton, best known for his role as head administrator at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, has published a mouthful of egotistical and pride in lieu of fact and narrative. He talks about how he caught the famed ‘Chesapeake Ripper’, the serial killer who ran loose until he ran straight into Chilton’s arms. Now, Abel Gideon sits behind Chilton’s bars and serves time for the known murder of his wife, and self-proclaimed murders of others._

_Instead of declaring a motive for Abel Gideon, Dr. Chilton simply awards himself credit for extracting a confession years after locking him up. The methods reportedly used unsound and could be read as an incriminating due to their implications of coercion. Additionally, the book is written in a lazy and narcissistic manner, causing the reader to roll their eyes during the bouts of ‘me, me, me’s’ laced into his writing. I’d strongly recommend any serious student of criminal justice stay away from this book, unless their thesis was on author’s bias._

_-Jeff Daniels, Ph.D. Reviewer for the University of Maryland_

“Well, it’s certainly not a nice review,” Price chuckled after Will finished reading it aloud.

“But, is it motive to kill?” Zeller challenged. “One man doesn’t like his book—so what.”

“To someone like Chilton, it could mean a lot,” Katz suggested in lieu of an answer. She never came forward to say if she genuinely thought Chilton was _The Easter Bunny_. Will himself wasn’t too sure, either.

“What about the first two, did they have any connection to Chilton?” Will asked, hoping to find further developments in the case.

“We did find one, for the second one,” Zeller paused. “His old college roommate.”

“What about the first one?”

“Absolutely no connection. Not that we could find,” Beverly responded. Will simply nodded, knowing what the team and him needed to do.

“Time to talk to Chilton again,” Jack said, before dismissing all of them.

Will nodded solemnly, thinking that he really needed a cup of coffee and a career change.

__________

Chilton opened the door, before the second knock just like last time, and found himself face to face with Will Graham.

“Ah,” Chilton greeted him, letting him into the spacious office, “back so soon, I see.”

Will looked at him with slight disdain and tired eyes.

“May I offer you a cup of coffee, Mr. Graham?” Chilton looked the other man up and down again. “You certainly look like you could use it.” Chilton patted the back of the couch, letting Will know to take a seat as he headed to the coffee machine he kept in his office. It began whirring, and the general administrator snuck a look at the private detective. He would do _just_ fine.

He brought the steaming mug over to Will, placing it on a coaster in front of him. Will simply nodded a thanks, instead of saying the actual words.

“So, Will—may I call you Will?” Chilton pauses, but doesn’t wait for a reply as he continues, “What brings you here today?”

Will sipped on his coffee before replying, “There’s been more connections, Frederick.”

“To me? From the murders?” Chilton clarified, taking the seat facing Will.

Will blinked slowly, nodding yes.

 _Oh, he was so beautiful,_ Chilton’s mind supplied, _the carved jaw, the lines of his mouth curved in a constant pout, and the eyes drooped from exhaustion, holding bouts of sadness within them._

“How was I connected this time?” Chilton chuckled, watching Will stretch to set down the coffee. The button up shirt Will was wearing stretched across his back. His hair fell into his face ever so slightly.

“One didn’t like your book, one was your college roommate. Then, of course, your ex,”  Will said.

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s only _three_ out of the four murders. Did you find a connection to the other?” he quipped, watching Will watch him with those melancholic eyes.

“No, you’d be right,” Will responded. “But you still need to explain the connection with three out of four.”

Chilton paused. _He actually might think I did it,_ Chilton thought, _he actually might be onto me._

Chilton got up, walking to the window. It was raining outside. He stared longingly out the window, wondering what it would be like to kiss Will Graham on the lips, to feel his skin under his hands.

“Chilton.” Will broke the other man’s train of thought, voice tired and heavy, like he needed to sleep.

“Graham,” Chilton replied, smirk on his face as he moved to sit next to him on the leather loveseat. “I assure you I did not kill these men. While yes, my ex was abusive, that was years ago. My roommate from college was over twenty years ago; I can’t even remember his name. We were roommates freshman year—we were 18. And the reviewer? I get bad reviews all the time. What makes him stand out, really?”

Will avoided eye contact, made anxious with Chilton’s close proximity, and swallowed, his eyes shifty and lost.

“Do you believe me, Will?”

Will looked at Chilton, then back to his hands. “Did you find anyone suspicious at the funeral, then?”

Chilton smiled, meeting Will’s eyes. Setting the bait, about to reel him in.

“Before you leave, Will, here’s my _personal_ number, feel free to call it whenever and for whatever.” Relishing the slight brush of their fingertips, Chilton handed Will a business card with a personal number pre-written on the blank side. Will no longer met his eyes as he nodded in agreement, a silent thank you.

Chilton watched him leave the office, itching to get his hands on the fishing rod and lure Will into his trap and into his arms.

__________

After leaving Chilton’s office, Will headed inside Hannibal’s office, the rain pressing his hair against his forehead and a weird knot in his stomach. The business card inside his front pocket burned him; he was dying to either shred it into pieces or call the number so neatly scratched on the back. Either way, it was burning a hole in him, distracting him from the matter at hand: catching the killer, saving people.

“Evening, Will,” Hannibal greeted from his desk, where wide paper was sprawled under his hands, pencil markings etched into it. He quickly rolled it up, stuffing it into a drawer with its brothers and sisters, hiding it from prying eyes.

“Evening, Hannibal,” Will replied dryly and plopped down in the chair across from Hannibal’s usual seat. He ran his hands along the smooth, burgundy leather, using texture to distract him from the fire inside his shirt, burning his skin. Distracting himself from the fire that had no evident cause.

“Are you getting enough sleep, Will?” Hannibal asked, sliding into the armchair across from Will. He studied the restless man, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Paranoia sunk into Will. _Can he feel the warmth emulating from the business card? Does he know?_ What there was to know, though, was an entirely new mystery. _No_ , Will thought, _there’s nothing to know._ But Hannibal always seemed to have a tricky way of finding things out, whether there was anything to find or not.

“Trying to, Dr. Lecter,” Will responded, his signature lopsided, uneasy grin tacked onto his face. “Lots of coffee for the time being.”

“Is that so?” He flashed a smile, eyeing the man down. _He knows_.

Will ducked his head in a rude nod, wanting to move on to discussing the Easter Bunny, and get past the small talk.

“He left me a note,” Will began. “The Easter Bunny.”

Hannibal’s eyebrow raised. “You’ve acquired an admirer.”

“I’d thank Freddie Lounds for that, for letting them know that I was working the case.”

“What did they say?” Hannibal paused. A flash of tongue over his lips. “What gifts did you receive?”

Will took out a copy—the original needed to be dusted for the _Bunny’s_ prints, if there was any—of the note he received from the team. Hannibal read it, analyzing the rushed words.

“An admirer certainly.” Hannibal folded the paper, handing it back. “It seems like he knows you, but wishes to know you better.”

“Someone I’ve talked to before, or he just _knows of_ me?” Will ran his hands over the leather of the seat again.

“Hard to say.” Hannibal paused. “Do you like _M &M’s _?”

He hadn’t thought much of the candy choice at the time; it didn’t seem like something worth noting. But clearly the Easter Bunny wanted to get it right.

“He wants to impress me,” he spoke quietly, to himself. “ _Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups_ are my favorite.”

Hannibal made a small, satisfied noise at that. “Was the handwriting his?”

Will shook his head. “No, he had the victim write it before killing him.”

Hannibal nodded, continuing on with the session.

Whoever the Easter Bunny was, he was seeking his approval. He wanted Will to notice him.

* * *

 He walked into the home, quickly and easily with its lack of security devices. He padded through the halls, noting the décor. The plastic suit he wore over his checkered three-piece was quiet, never giving away his presence as he snuck into the master bedroom. Inside were deep snores where a bachelor slept, unaware of the world, the man watching him, and everything outside of his dream land.

Pitiful, really. To be so unaware of the greater scheme of everything. The attacker kneeled by the bed, waking the bachelor up with a cool knife under his throat. He immediately started sputtering, asking who this man was, begging for his life.

“Be quiet,” he told him, standing up, “get up, and please, no more noise.”

He walked, his feet bare, and he continued to hold the knife to the bachelor’s back, his arms held by the attacker’s hands. The attacker was much stronger than him, and taller too. The victim would lose the fight, if he even so much as tried to move outside of the thought-out plan.

“Grab a pen and paper.” He did, rustling quickly through the drawers until he landed on a spare notepad and a ballpoint pen. “Good, now write these words, these _exact_ words.”

After the bachelor was finished, the attacker slit his throat on his bed, sliced open his abdomen and began scavenging his next meal, wrapping it safely in a zip-lock bag. Then he dumped the bag of _Reese’s pieces_ and _Reese’s peanut butter cups_ , filling the bleeding and dead man to the brim with Will’s favorite candy.

“I hope you like my gift, Will.” He smiled, his pale face gleaming in the darkness of the kitchen as he grabbed the plastic bags. “How kind of you to share the information with me today.”

__________

Will walked into the morgue, greeting Katz, Price and Zeller with the faintest of nods as they pulled out the freshly-found body.

“We got the tip this morning,” Zeller informed him. “The neighbor saw a dark figure leave his place around 4 am. She was leaving for work when she saw them leave. Called in once she thought she got a good look at the perp.” He lifted the sheet to expose the victim, filled to the brim with—

“Those are my favorite chocolates.” Will looked startled, turning to Zeller. “Is there a note?”

“Clever boy,” Price chuckled, then handed him the note.

_Will,_

_Here’s a little gift for you, so you don’t forget who I am._

_I’ve been thinking about you a lot, I’m sure I’m on your mind as well._

_I heard these were your favorites, I hope I’m not wrong? A little birdie told me, and I just couldn’t resist giving you this gift._

_I feel like you see right through me, like you don’t notice me._

_I really wish you’d notice me._

_Yours,_

_The Easter Bunny_

“There’s no connection to Chilton,”  Beverly said. “Just some cashier at Baltimore Loose Tea, 23, studying at the University of Maryland.”

“No connection _unless_ Chilton just really likes his overpriced teas.” Zeller tapped his pen against the metal bed.

“They’re worth it,” Price huffed. “But I wouldn’t expect someone like _you_ to understand fine teas.”

Zeller smirked beside him. “Oh yeah, what’s your favorite then? I’ll add it to our grocery list of ‘overpriced things Jimmy wants but doesn’t need and it’s draining my bank account’.”

Price had the faintest of blushes when he replied, “oolong,” and Beverly rolled her eyes beside them.

“Enough!” Jack interrupted, then turned to Will. “How’d he know they were your favorite then? How’d he pick this one?”

“I don’t know how he picked him. Maybe he was rude to him?” Then it clicked. “Jack, I don’t think this was the actual _Easter Bunny_. This was a copycat.”

He turned, subtle anger in his eyes as Zeller and Price fussed over the body and Beverly ran prints on the note.

“A _copycat_?!” Jack barked in anger, slamming his fist next to the body. It caused Zeller and Price to jump ever so slightly as they moved out of his way, whispering about going to get loose tea after work.

“Jack,” Will sighed, running his hands over his heavy eyes. “The last person I talked to about this, about my favorite candy, was Hannibal.”

“You’re not serious, are you?” Jack demanded, _“Are_ you?”

“I’m just saying, it lines up,” Will replied. “He knew intimate details about the case, and the same night as my last appointment, a body shows up filled with _Reese’s_ products.”

Jack crossed his arms, then said, “Fine. Call him in.”

“We should tell Lounds, it worked last time,” Will suggested, against his own better judgement. “Maybe,   _just_ maybe he’ll get angry and take credit for the killings.”

“Or we’ll end up with another victim.”

“Lead him to me. He wants me, Jack. Let’s let him find me.”

__________

“Will,” Hannibal said, the faintest smile on his face, his hands handcuffed behind his back, “I didn’t expect to see you like this.”

Will chose not to speak to him, letting Jack handle the questioning.

“Dr. Lecter.” Jack cleared his throat. But Hannibal ignored it, keeping his eyes on Will. “You’re being arrested as the prime suspect for the murder of Elliot Geller.”

“Is that so?” Hannibal smiled, eyes still trained on Will. “Just the one though? You’ll find I’m not guilty of the other three.”

Will’s eyes snapped up to look at Hannibal, and he looked far too pleased with the conviction.

“Which means,” Hannibal continued to stare, but this time Will couldn’t resist looking into his eyes as he said his next words, “you’re still at a loss over who the real killer is.”

“Alright, enough,” Jack snapped, motioning to the guards holding Hannibal to take him to his appointed cell. Soon, he’d be moved into Chilton’s care at the BSHCI.

Jack turned to Will, waiting for him to say something.

“He wanted to be caught,” Will settled on lamely, looking at the floor. “Hannibal wanted to be caught. He made it so easy, rubbing it in our faces. Making it easy to catch him but telling us how we’re failing to catch _The Easter Bunny_.”

“Well, we just have to catch the next lunatic.” Jack rested his hand on Will’s shoulder, before taking it back just as quick. “One down, one to go.”

Jack looked at Will, before walking away. _How_ was the real question.

__________

“Will Graham.” Freddie Lounds gave a short laugh from the other line. “How nice to hear from you again.”

Will rolled his eyes, safe in the comfort of his own home, petting all of his dogs at the same time, to the best of his abilities. “I need another favor.”

“ _Another?_ What’s in it for me?” Freddie asked. He could distinctly hear her filing her nails.

“You get to help us catch the Easter Bunny. You’ll be credited for assisting with the capture,” he offered, knowing it was a cheap shot.

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, outside of that.”

“We won’t arrest you for the number of times you’ve broken the law at crime scenes.”

The filing stopped. “How may I be of assistance?”

* * *

“Dr. Lecter.” Chilton smiled, staring down the man in his cell. It was at the back of the hall, the least lit, and most likely to drive him mad.

“Dr. Chilton.” He smiled in that knowing way of his. “I thought I asked for a room with a view.”

“Well,” Chilton began, smile growing wider, “we don’t really give those out willy-nilly. You have to earn those.”

Hannibal looked Chilton up and down, disdain in his pale eyes. “And you, Frederick? Did you earn yours?”

Chilton grimaced at the words, although his satisfaction with locking Hannibal up grew. Getting to spy on him through his laptop, watching him suffer without his precious wines and teas, and his precious _Will_. He walked away, a cheerful bounce in his step for locking up Hannibal Lecter.

__________

Chilton had just cleared Jack and Will for visiting hours, after ensuring Hannibal was locked in his visiting cage. At Jack’s angry and fiery stare, Chilton returned to his office, opening up his laptop to watch the exchange between former patient and former psychiatrist.

“Will, did you miss me?” Hannibal asked. “Or are you here for some more therapy? It is your regular time after all.”

Will looked annoyed. “Why did you want to get caught?”

Hannibal let out a little chuckle. “I was beginning to underestimate your detective skills. I still am.”

Will purposely avoided Hannibal’s gaze. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

Chilton watched Will’s face, the grainy quality of the camera not doing it justice.

“You still don’t know who the _real_ killer is, do you?” Hannibal asked, making both Frederick and Will uncomfortable.

“Do _you,_ Hannibal?” Will asked, meeting Hannibal’s stare for the first time that meeting.

“I’m a little shocked you don’t already.”

Hannibal knew. He knew it was Chilton. Hannibal said it so casually, slipping it into the conversation like it was common knowledge. But would Will believe him? Would he accept the fact that Frederick was the Easter Bunny? He watched Will’s face, waiting for it to click.

“I’m over your games, Hannibal.” Will adjusted his glasses, breaking eye contact with the older man. “You either do or you don’t. Either way, I know you won’t tell me.”

The security guard and Jack re-entered the frame to escort Hannibal back to his cell. Will looked defeated, and Chilton just wanted to hold him, to protect him from Hannibal.

“Use your eyes, Will,” Hannibal said as he was escorted away. “And good to see you again, Jack.”

__________

Will walked up the steps to Chilton’s office, feeling drawn to the overly decorated room for no reason. He told Jack he’d meet up with him again tomorrow to go over more details from the case, but for now he felt like visiting Chilton to get more information. At least, that’s what he told Jack.

In retrospect, coffee sounded good, and the coffee Frederick gave Will during his last visit was, of course, very expensive, but also very good. It was a cold day, he had dealt with Hannibal, and he needed a break. It just so happened that break came in the form of sitting on Chilton’s couch, drinking his coffee.

He knocked on the door, and like every time before, Chilton opened it before Will could knock a second time.

There was something in Chilton’s eyes when he greeted Will, opening the door wider to let him in and offering him a cup of coffee. But Will couldn’t place the look. He just knew _something_ was there.

“Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time, Frederick?” he asked as Chilton handed him the warm cup of coffee. Immediately upon sipping, Will thanked the small part in his brain that chose to spend some time with Frederick Chilton.

“Of course not, Will!” Chilton assured him, sliding into the armchair across from Will. Frederick watched Will drink his coffee and sit on his couch. In some weird way, it felt predatory, like the looks Hannibal used to give Will at his appointments. Will brushed it under the metaphorical rug, saving speculation for later. Now, now was for coffee.

“This coffee is delicious,” Will told him, sipping from it again, “I forgot to tell you last time.”

And Chilton looked absolutely pleased, the smallest amount of color filling his cheeks as he thanked Will and said he was glad Will enjoyed it. Will simply nodded, savoring the warmth of the coffee. It reminded Will of the same warmth from the last time he visited Chilton, of how his business card had practically burned a hole through his chest. Will had never gotten to the bottom of that, brushing it under the same rug as the predatory looks.

“I hope your visit isn’t just to interrogate me again?” Chilton quipped, stretching out ever so slightly in his olive armchair.

“Not entirely,” Will told him. Half a smile made its way on Chilton’s face. Will returned the smile with his own small smile. Will turned away to stare outside at the gray sky.

“I’m just glad we locked Hannibal up,” Chilton said, watching Will with the same warmth in his cheeks, just the faintest pink gracing his skin.

“Me too.” Will’s smile grew. He felt his own cheeks echo the warmth of the steam from the mug, and quite possibly, the gaze from Chilton. “But, unfortunately, the real Easter Bunny is still out there. Hannibal said he knew, or at least claimed to know who he is. But, of course, he wouldn’t tell me.”

Chilton gave Will a funny look at that. “Well, I wouldn’t expect a man like Hannibal to be privy to telling the truth. But Will...” Will met his eyes. “I know you’ll catch him.”

“I sure hope so, Frederick.” And against his better nature, Will accepted Chilton’s offer of a second cup of coffee and relaxed more against the loveseat, spilling details of the case. Finding odd comfort in Chilton’s company and even odder warmth under his piercing gaze.

__________

“Will! You can’t be serious.” Chilton chuckled across from Will, empty coffee cups between them and hours past.

“Dead.”

Chilton gave a small laugh, watching the crow’s feet by Will’s eyes emerge from happiness, something Chilton never thought he’d see.

“You and Freddie Lounds, _the_ Freddie Lounds, almost named him the Candy Man?!” Chilton smiled, his laughter slowing down. “I don’t know which is worse, the Easter Bunny or the Candy Man.”

Will joined in on the laughter over the dumb names, then asked, “Well, what would you have named him? He goes around leaving candy, little treats, for his victims.”

“Beats me,” Chilton responded, breathy from laughter and with a twinkle in his eye.

“Then you have no room to judge.” Will smiled. Chilton met his gaze, returning the smile. And there was something so intense about it, while so passive at the same time. Here Will was, inside Frederick Chilton’s office actually _enjoying_ himself and Chilton’s company.

“Frederick, can I ask you a question?” Will asked, seriousness replacing the soft laughter that was filling the room just a moment ago.

“Of course,” Chilton replied, his smile leaving his face. Will was surprised he was sad to see it go.

“You’re not...” Will paused, finding his words. “You’re not psychoanalyzing me, right? We’re just…talking?”

Chilton’s face dropped from both the accusation and the sad reality that Will didn’t have many friends.

“It’s just,” Will continued, staring at his feet, “Hannibal, he knew a lot of stuff about me. He knew what to put in the last victim. I don’t want you to be my new therapist, Chilton.”

“Of course not, Will,” Chilton replied in a small voice, “I want to be your friend. We’re friends. You can trust me.”

Will smiled, at a loss for words. He really hoped he could trust Chilton.

“Is that all?” Chilton asked with a kind smile. “I hate to shoo you away, but I really must see to closing down, and transitioning to night shift. I didn’t realize the time, I apologize.”

Will got up, suddenly embarrassed at staying in Chilton’s office for so long, at talking like friends would, at considering Chilton his first friend in so long.

“It’s all right. I’m sorry I kept you so long.” Will brushed past him, ignoring his saddened gaze.

“Don’t be, Will.” Chilton turned to Will, who was already by the door, ready to leave. “Please, call me anytime you need to. To talk.”

Will smiled back at him, then left. And while driving home, refusing to look back up at the window of Chilton’s office, Will felt the smallest pang of sadness.

__________

 _It’d be bad, right?_ Chilton thought to himself on the drive home. _It’d be bad to betray his trust when I finally get close to him? I’m so close._

But there was an urge to kill to impress Will even more. To see if he could figure out it was Chilton. On top of that, he was so mad Hannibal came in and stole the spotlight. Took the credit for _his_ killings, for _his_ idea. To get _his_ Will.

He was just _so mad_ . He needed to do _something_ , he was itching for another body stuffed to the brim with sugary goods. He just bought a bag of sour gummy worms and was ready to rip apart the bag and some man.

He parked his car and shuffled across the walkway to his home, where a new version of _The Tattletale_ greeted him. “I wonder what Miss Lounds said about me this time,” Chilton chuckled, grabbing the plastic-wrapped newspaper. He unlocked the front door and was met with dried blood stains on the ground. Across his sofa laid a lifeless body, stuffed with _Milky Way’s_.

“That absolute _bastard_ ,” Chilton shouted, storming through the house to find his cat, making sure she was okay and ready to get the hell out of there. After securing her, he called the police, and angrily waited for the sirens to approach his home. He hurriedly ran downstairs to his hidden medical rooms and made sure there was nothing incriminating against him. He would not be caught because of Hannibal, or whoever did this.

After what felt like a minute, the FBI and the police were knocking on the door. Jack Crawford, followed by Will, stormed into the place and looked over the body and dried blood.

“Copycat or the real deal?” Jack demanded of Will and his team, a shorter older man with graying hair and a facial expression like he was sucking a lemon, along with a taller, younger man with thick curls and an amused, yet serious expression.

“No.” Will looked to Chilton quickly, then back to Jack. “This must’ve been Hannibal.”

“Dr. Chilton, when’s the last time you were here? Surely in the last two days between Hannibal’s arrest?” Jack asked, his tired eyes giving away his own lack of sleep.

“No. I had a conference just an hour out of town, so I just booked a hotel there for it,” Chilton answered.

“So, Hannibal,” Will said, in a drained voice. He sighed, defeated by the prospect of Hannibal taking two lives.

“Well, at least we know he’s in jail,” Jack sighed as his team took the wrapped body to the coroner’s van.

“If you don’t mind me asking...” Chilton cleared his throat. “How do you know it’s Hannibal and not the Easter Bunny _?_ ”

Will gave him a strange look. “I think,” he began slowly, “there would’ve been a note. Plus, he would, or already did, have something against you—he made sure to put the body inside your home even though it wasn’t _your_ body. Why else would the Easter Bunny need to come to your house specifically, Frederick?”

Chilton looked at his feet, slightly embarrassed, “Right, right. No, that makes sense.”

“Don’t worry, Dr. Chilton,” Jack interrupted, “We’ll have a cleanup team. Would you like us to make any accommodations for you?”

“No, no. It’s fine,” Chilton replied quickly. “I can book a hotel room.”

“We’ll let you know when you can come back. Sorry for the inconvenience,” Jack said, then left the house, leaving Chilton and Will standing there awkwardly. Chilton turned away to gather his cat and some clothing, ignoring where Hannibal would’ve stood to place the body.

“Frederick,” Will called after him, before he could leave the room completely. He looked like he was having an internal argument with himself. “You’re welcome to stay at my house for the time being. It’s a bit of a drive, and uh, I have a lot of dogs. But you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to.”

And it warmed Frederick’s heart. _So close_. He’d be in Will’s home, he’d know Will better, and they’d be closer. He couldn’t skip a chance like this.

“I’d like that, Will. I really would.” He smiled and saw color fill Will’s cheeks. “Would it be okay to bring my cat? Or I could put her in a kennel for the time being.”

“That might be best? If that’s ok? I have like, eight dogs,” Will chuckled, a light laugh like the ones from hours ago, which felt like days away.

“I think that’d be for the best as well.” Chilton smiled, feeling warmth in his cheeks, too.

Will shuffled his feet, ignoring Chilton’s eyes. “I’ll uh, go warm up the car. Don’t worry, we’re not in a rush, take your time. This, uh, sort of thing can be hard to process?”

Chilton nodded, and Will softly shut the door, leaving Chilton to marinate in the revenge of Hannibal Lecter and the warmth at a rising chance with Will Graham.

__________

The drive was spent in silence, both of them too nervous or awkward to make conversation. However, they both desperately wanted to. Will drove to a pet kennel, the finest in town for Chilton’s Francis, and Chilton dropped her off for an indefinite number of nights, kissing her softly on the forehead before turning back to Will’s car. Now, here they were, driving along the stretch of darkness and trees to Will’s home.

It warmed Chilton’s heart and cheeks, for Will to invite him into his life _this_ much, to allow him to see this other side of him. Chilton snuck subtle glances at him, the yellow and oranges of the street lights flickering onto Will’s tired face, setting his eyes ablaze in the darkness, darkening the stubble on his jaw. He was beautiful, and he would be Chilton’s.

“I’m surprised you make this drive so often,” Chilton quipped, tiredness seeping through his gentle words. Will smiled, his eyes ghosting over Chilton just for the shortest of moments.

“It’s worth it though. To get the peace and quiet,” Will sighed, and in a smaller voice he added, “To get away from it as best as I can.”

Chilton kept his eyes trained on the highway before him, the wind carrying the faintest of rain drops forward. “I’m sure.”

“The price we pay for justice,” Will sighed, tacking on the smallest laugh.

Chilton’s eyes flickered towards Will, whose jaw locked back up and knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. “I understand it can be tough,” Chilton said, “but what you do is amazing, Will. It really is.”

Will’s hands loosened just slightly, before he muttered, “Thanks.”

Chilton turned to the window, settling back into the silence and watching the small rain drops attack the glass.

__________

Will gripped the steering wheel, ignoring the twist of his gut as he drove closer to his home. He didn’t know what came over him to invite Chilton to stay with him. Will just saw him shaken up over the blood and sickly-sweet stench of candy filling his living room, and before he knew it the words had left his mouth.  And now the two of them took up space in his car, while rain gently tapped on the roof and Chilton slumped against the window, dozing off. It was endearing to find Chilton so comfortable in his company. It’d been so long since Will felt comforted by someone’s company, to have someone yearn the same way he did for human interaction.

Will glanced over at the dozing man, whose chest rose and fell slowly as he fell further into unconsciousness. The yellow of the passing street lights simultaneously cast shadows on his face and illuminated his softer features, making him appear tangible and human. So unlike the Frederick Chilton Will thought he once knew—but this right here, this was a different man. A man who had walked in on a stranger gutted in his home.

If the Will of two weeks ago had had some premonition of this night, he would’ve retired, telling Jack that he finally went crazy.

But Will smiled hearing the faintest of snores coming from Chilton.

__________

A light touch jostled Chilton from his light sleep. He blinked rapidly, adjusting to his surroundings, before it came to him.

“Will,” Chilton breathed, focusing on him.

Will gave Chilton his signature lopsided smile. “We’re here. Sorry to wake you, but, uh. It’s more comfortable inside.”

“Right,” Chilton yawned. “Of course.”

“Quick warning. My dogs, they might jump on you. You’re going to have to get used to it.” And then Will opened the door, and a storm of fur and wagging tails encompassed Chilton. Will laughed, watching them surround Chilton and his designer slacks, finding humor in him failing to pet them all at once. Light laughs escaped Chilton and joined Will’s.

“Okay guys. Enough, enough,” Will laughed, shooing them away. “Let’s leave Frederick alone.” Chilton smiled in thanks, joining Will inside his home. It was just what Chilton expected from Will: a hoard of dogs, bed in the living room, and an overall abandoned feeling to it. Abandoned in the sense it was a house, but not a home.

He’d like to make a home with Will. To have him consider Chilton to be his newfound home. He’d make this place, or any place— he’d make himself—Will’s home.

“I’ll go make the bed upstairs,” Will said, then disappeared up the stairs to a likely unused fraction of his house. Chilton looked around, admired the fishing rods and mindlessly petting one of the dogs, scratching behind its ear as its little tail wagged rapidly.

“You sleep downstairs?” he asked Will, hearing his footsteps come down the creaky staircase.

“Worried about intruders,” Will responded flatly, going to fill the dogs’ dishes. Chilton nodded in understanding and continued looking around his living room. It all felt so domestic, petting the dogs and watching Will tend to them. If only, when the two of them retired for the evening, they would share the same bed, tucked into each other’s arms to doze off into dreamland together. One day.

“Will.” Chilton cleared his throat, watching the delicious way Will’s undershirt stretched across his back and his arms. “I really do appreciate you letting me stay with you.”

Will paused, then turned to Chilton, that crooked smile back on his face. “Anything for a friend.” Then he went back to tending to the dogs, taking them outside.

Chilton stood in his living room, feeling full of life and warmth.

__________

_Frederick,_

_Jack called me in. Be back in a few hours. Dogs taken care of._

_-Will_

Chilton smiled down at the note as he sipped from the instant coffee. Of course, Will was the type to have instant coffee, always on the rush. Chilton meandered around Will’s home, taking in details, filling the gaps in his mind with memorized facts about Will Graham. He admired the handspun fishing lines and bait, the intricate feathers dangling in the sunlight. The morning dew in the front yard, the floors creaking below his socked feet as he crept around in his silk pajamas. He made the journey upstairs, his hand tight around the speckled mug. He snuck into Will’s empty, meant-to-be bedroom, inhaling the stale scent of abandonment. He rifled through the closet, breathing in the leftover smell of aftershave still clinging to the flannels, the wafts of cheap cologne. He ran his hands through the fishing sweaters, hung in the back, feeling their thick knits under his fingertips. Finding small traces of Will, imagining him in these creams and reds, the wind turning his cheeks pink and making his curls wild.

Chilton breathed out, then back in. Soaking in his thoughts of Will. Surrounding himself in Will’s belongings, stealing a dark gray sweater from the back of the closet to stuff in his bag. To have _some_ part of Will, to have some part of Will be his.

__________

The sun was setting and Will still wasn’t home. Chilton sat in the fading light of the living room, dressed in his most casual, but pristine turtleneck and jeans, waiting for Will’s arrival. But he was still not home and Chilton was restless. Itching to cut open someone, to take out the anger he reserved for Hannibal for stealing his _thing_. But like the love-struck idiot he’d become, he left his car tucked in the garage and had no way of getting into town without Will. Luckily, the BSHCI gave him a few days off to recover from the whole ‘traumatic atmosphere’ of the thing, and to possibly assist with the case, although the blame was already pegged on Hannibal Lecter’s shoulders.

He sighed, dropping his head onto his knees, yearning for Will’s return. Maybe the two of them could drive into town tomorrow, he could treat Will to lunch as a thank you, pick up his car and take out his next victim. He sighed deeply, thinking of proposing the idea to Will if he ever returned.

An hour later, Will walked through the door and found Chilton asleep in that same position.

__________

The smell of coffee and the sound of footsteps creaking around his home woke Will. He jolted upright, sweat causing his t-shirt to cling to his back, only to be met with the shocked face of Frederick Chilton.

“Will!” Chilton let out a nervous laugh, coffee mug in his hands and silk pajamas hanging off his frame. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I made us some coffee.” He said it so casually, the implication of friendship and ‘ _us_ ’. Will took in Chilton’s ruffled bed head, how it was poking in different directions, the monogrammed and ostentatious pajamas. It was the most outrageous and casual look he’d ever seen Chilton in, and Will had to bite his tongue from laughing.

“Oh, thank you,” Will finally responded. Chilton headed back up to his room. Will asked himself when the unused guest room upstairs became Chilton’s room. He ran his hands through his hair, feeling the sweat start to cool on his face. After a few moments he rose, padding over to the coffee machine and hearing the shower upstairs turn on.

He pondered his houseguest over the steam of the coffee, thinking of the smooth silk against his skin, Chilton’s own stubble rubbing against his neck. Thinking of his pricy cologne, and his fancy hair products with their inviting smell. What it would be like to always come home to Chilton waiting for him, slumped over in his living room.

He shook his head, hoping to relieve himself of those thoughts and down the coffee, ignoring any further thoughts of Chilton.

__________

It was strange seeing Chilton so casually draped across from him, not wearing his typical double-breasted suit jacket and arrogant scowl. It was peaceful and comfortable, seeing him in his worn burgundy sweater, scanning the menu with relaxed eyes. Will had to stop himself from just watching him, adjusting to this version of Chilton.

Eventually the waitress came and took their orders, delivering the coffees the two of them had ordered upon seating.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Frederick,” Will told him, glancing around at the high ceilings and deep red drapes. It was clearly a very nice restaurant, judging by the prices alone.

“Please, it’s the least I can do,” Chilton replied, sipping his cappuccino. “You didn’t have to let me stay with you, and yet you did.”

“It was the least I could do.” Will shot him a quick smile, and a smile graced Frederick’s face behind his mug. Will turned to the window, sipping from his own coffee.

The two of them sat in silence, enjoying the warm and slow atmosphere of the restaurant and each other’s subtle company. Will hardly noticed when the waitress came back, placing their meals before them.

“Beet salad?” Will chuckled, stabbing a fork into his salmon.

“One can grow to love beets,” Chilton replied, waving his fork with said beet around with a coy look on his face. Will rolled his eyes, going back to his meal.

“I have a lot of dietary limitations and health problems,” Chilton added, breaking the growing silence. He stared at his salad.

“How so?” Will asked, hoping to see Chilton’s head lift back up.

Chilton ran his fork through the kale on his plate. “I can’t really eat meat. Or sweets, basically I’m stuck with super healthy options only.” He halted his fork. “When I was a teenager I was bullied, and of course, being the snarky son of a bitch I can be, I said something back. Next thing I knew I was waking up in the emergency room. The bastard had taken some broken glass he found near him and shoved it in my gut, dragging it down my stomach.” He picked up the fork, shoving the beet in his mouth to silence himself.

“Frederick. I’m sorry to hear that. He got jail time, juvie at least, right?” Will asked, watching Chilton silently chew and ignore his gaze.

“Of course,” Chilton said bitterly. “That whole ordeal is the reason I wanted to run Baltimore State Hospital, to make sure criminals got what they needed.” He said, with such easy and casual vengeance laced into his words.

“Understandable.” Will nodded along, going back to his meal as Chilton continued to stab at his own.

__________

Speaking of his past today with Will just reminded Chilton so much of that itch to kill. The itch to give someone the real sentence that they didn’t get from the actual justice system. After Will dropped him off, with parting instructions to leave the front door unlocked for him, and Chilton explaining he just needed to take care of a few things at the BSHCI, Chilton drove off to his next victim.

Luckily, the man who was responsible for the scar across Chilton’s body had moved only 45 minutes south of Baltimore after getting out of juvie. Chilton drove the stretch of road, finding the house that was on record, and silently parked the car. Chilton had found the man’s dead-end job title and luckily, his shifts, and knew the man would be home. He worked the graveyard shifts at Walmart, meaning he should’ve been asleep.

Chilton slid an unlocked window open to crawl through, bringing his bag of goodies in with him as well. He moved throughout the house, finding the man’s bedroom, Chilton’s plastic suit cover never giving him away. Slowly, he opened the door and watched for a moment as the man who messed up his life took deep breaths. Then, like a firecracker going off, Chilton slid the knife through the man’s engorged stomach, the same way he had in the 10th grade to Chilton. The man’s eyes shot open, not realizing who Chilton was.

Chilton grabbed him by his pathetic ponytail, taking him into the kitchen as his blood spilled across the hardwood floors.

“Please! Please! I’ll give you anything, please,” he sobbed, holding his stomach to keep his insides from spilling out.

“Get on the counter,” Chilton commanded, motioning to the island in the kitchen, and the man hopped up with terror and tears in his eyes. After the man laid himself flat on the island, Chilton shoved the knife through his throat, watching the life drain from his eyes and the blood spill on the white counter.

He moved to the man’s chest, ripping open his shirt to begin removing his organs, then throwing them on the floor. Chilton grabbed his bag of store-bought brownies, cookies and _Snickers_ bars, stuffing them into the man's chest. He watched as the blood covered the brownies, dying the sugar cookies red as the wrapped candy bars poked out where organs should be.

“Frederick!” Will called upstairs, where the man had just disappeared to. “I have to go to Jack, there’s been another body.”

“Alright!” Chilton called back. “I’ll be here. I don’t need to return to work for a few more days.”

Will nodded, heading out and driving towards the lifeless body that awaited him.

__________

“Morning, handsome,” Beverly joked, handing Will a courtesy cup of coffee. He nodded towards her and the others. He looked over the body, noticing the immediate anger of the situation.

“He was careless with this one,” Will said.

“Careless could mean clues,” Jack said, leaning against the wall, watching Will and his team.

“Not necessarily,” Will replied. “He was angrier, this one meant something to him. This could very well be his last victim, his last _hoorah_.”  

Zeller and Price glanced at each other, then at Will, then back at the body, finally busying themselves with bagging the sweets.

“What makes you think it’s his last?” Beverly asked.

Will looked back at the body. “There’s better sweets, he hasn’t used things like brownies or cookies before. There’s still the candy bars, but this one was _elevated_ because of the other treats. He was important.” He took a sip of his coffee, savoring the warmth to wake him up fully. “Does he have a criminal record? Something to make enemies?”

“Yep,” Zeller replied. “Juvie.”

“Stabbed a kid in high school, sent him to the emergency room,” Jimmy added.

The comment struck Will strangely, reminding him of Frederick’s own scar from a similar incident.

“It isn’t on record who the victim was, right?” he asked for clarification. “They lived though?”

Zeller shakes his head. “No. But the victim survived. Why?”

“No note, right?”

“Sorry, lover boy. No secret admirer note this time,” Price chuckled. Zeller rolled his eyes next to him, and Price continued chuckling at his own joke. Will ignored him, putting the pieces of the puzzle together in his head.

It was all starting to make sense.

__________

 

Will’s drive home was shrouded in fog, silence, and haunting thoughts of what could be lying beneath Chilton’s mask. Living with him, albeit briefly, left Will feeling whole and warm from the simple motions of leaving Chilton an early morning note, or Chilton making them both coffee while Will fed the dogs. It was simple, and it was easy, and he didn’t want it to be gone or ruined. Chilton’s home was cleaned up, but he hadn’t gotten the clear to move back in yet, and he still had two days before the Baltimore State Hospital needed him back.

It felt so good. It felt almost happy. Will felt at peace knowing he’d come back and see Chilton there, dozing off in his living room in his soft and worn sweaters. He’d see the darkness and the mist from the forest part when he opened the door, and like an angel emerging from the personal hell he lived through, Chilton would be there. He was constant. He tethered Will to reality, the anchor for his drifting boat. And now it was all going to be gone, like everything else he thought was a constant.

There’d be no more need for morning notes, there’d be no reason to set two coffee cups out, to apologize for the dogs’ jumping despite the reassuring pets they received. It’d be gone, and he’d go back to being alone.

Chilton would sit there, in the cells that he currently closed on people like Hannibal. Chilton would be stationary against the gray brick walls like a painting, swimming in a miserable uniform and swallowing down prison food. Someone would go through his mail, and he’d be in the confessional, constantly confessing for his sins. Will had the power, Will could hang Chilton and nail him to the cross, force him to repent and weep as he bled out. Will could give him the fate he deserved, Will could put him behind those bars to join all the other killers and people like Hannibal, and himself.

Will knew it was right, but in his mind all he could think of was his pot of coffee filled for two. Ink bleeding onto his thumb as he scribbled his whereabouts, creeping through his home not to wake Chilton. Will thought of Chilton’s silk and cologne drifting downstairs and airing wherever he went, constantly tickling Will’s nose with scent. He thought of that small corner of life he somehow separated from all other aspects of his life, and how Chilton was always in that corner. Every restless night where he sweated through his sheets, he felt safe with the fact that Chilton was above him, sleeping undisturbed.

Will knew he should do the right thing, serve Chilton justice for his wrongdoings and flamboyant murders. But he did tell Jack this could very well be Chilton’s last kill. Chilton could stop, and Will could continue to have this slice of life, make it into a whole serving. Will could continue on this path with Chilton and continue that freshly brewed coffee, those casual luncheons in his office, and the steadiness of waking up next to him.

__________

“Frederick?” Will called into the house, careful steps creaking the wood beneath him. The dogs moved around him, swimming in movements and small barks. “Frederick? Are you home?”

 _Home_. Home that could be the two of them and Will’s growing pack of no-longer strays. Maybe part of him argued that Chilton would be the next addition to the pack of strays he collected. Chilton’s car was in the driveway. Maybe he was sleeping.

Will took weary steps up the stairway, knocking on Chilton’s almost-closed door. There was no reply, causing Will to knock again. Still, no reply. The shower wasn’t running, and the door to the bathroom was open with no lights on.

He slowly twisted the doorknob, unsure and worried about what he would see. He gently pushed the door open, to be met with Chilton laying on the bed, sound asleep.

“Frederick,” Will spoke again, voice heavy from the growing truth in his mind as he looked at Chilton’s slow breathing and soft lashes. How could the Easter Bunny be the same man he felt growing affection for? Could they continue to be separated? “Frederick, wake up.” Will tried again, gently moving his shoulder.

Chilton’s eyes fluttered open, moonlight streaming through the window and painting him in a pale, beautiful light. Will dreaded what would follow.

“Will?” Chilton yawned. “I must’ve dozed off, what is it?” He stretched, his hair ruffled from the pillow and the growing softness to his look distracting Will ever so slightly. _How were they the same? Please God, please don’t make it true,_ Will begged silently.

“I know,” Will breathed, meeting Chilton’s eyes. Chilton stopped moving, his mouth opening and closing like he was going to say something. Around the room, his eyes darted, sadness growing in their sea of misty blue. Finally, his eyes met Will’s.

“I suppose Jack is waiting outside? And a sniper trained for my head.” Chilton nervously grinned. “Better make it quick.” He looked down, ashamed that Will found out and possibly ashamed of his actions.

“No, Frederick, listen.” Will hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. “ _I_ know. They don’t yet.”

“You haven’t told them?” Chilton sounded scared—scared it was only a matter of days until he was exposed for who he really was.

“No.”

“Why?”

Will paused, his hand still resting on Chilton’s shoulder, whose eyes were still scared and trained on Will.

“I’m afraid I like you a bit too much to turn you in.” Anxiously, Will cleared his throat. “I like the comfort that you offer me. I don’t want to give that up.”

Chilton smiled, moving his hand to meet Will’s. “I’m afraid I like the comfort as well.”

They both laughed for a short few seconds before they were hit with reality again.

“They will find out. They’ll put the pieces together, just like you did.” Chilton shuddered, his hand slipping from Will’s. Chilton was too awkward to reach out for it again.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why’d you kill these people, Frederick?”

Again, Chilton appeared at a loss for words, having been caught in a situation where he had to explain himself. “They, these people—they all _wronged_ me? They made me look like a _fool._ Always said I’d never do, or amount to anything, not even when I did. Cheated me of happiness for _so long_.”

While not agreeing, Will sympathized with him and still wanted to hold Chilton’s scruffy cheek in his rough palms. Comfort him and let him know it was okay now.

“Do you feel bad?” Will hesitantly asked, scared of what the answer would be.

“In some ways,” Chilton sighed, not meeting Will’s eyes. “I feel bad, having killed them. But I feel bad that I couldn’t make them see the potential in me. That they wouldn’t accept it.”

It was the answer Will was expecting: very little hints of remorse in Chilton’s carefully chosen words. Years of cultivated anger skewing his thoughts for so long. Making Chilton feel okay with his knife plunging through someone else’s neck.

“Why the candy?”

“Dramatics?” Chilton chuckled. “That and, well. I couldn’t really have them? The sugary sweets. Took some anger out with the whole dietary restrictions aspect.”

“The notes?” Will finally breached the topic of his early affections.

“Will,” Chilton turned to Will, who sat down on the bed and reached out for Frederick’s hand again. “I’ve carried these feelings for you since the early meetings. I did genuinely want you to see _me_ . Maybe not that aspect of me, but _me_ nonetheless.” He laced his fingers through Will’s, and despite all the baggage and murders, it felt _right_.

It felt like it was home, on its way to becoming home. No longer forced to spend nights watching his house with its yellow lights inside and being so distanced from it all. Chilton was becoming home, and Will was becoming his.

“Frederick,” Will sighed, gripping onto his hand tighter. “I see you.”

“You make me regret it. You make me want to be better. I want to turn myself in, rid you of me and my crimes,” Chilton started crying with deep, theatrical sobs, resting his head on Will’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Will.”

Will brought his other hand to Chilton’s head, running his fingers lightly through his hair and resting his cheek on the top of his head. “I know you are.”

* * *

 

Months had gone by, with no more bodies showing up on the FBI’s doorsteps. Chilton resumed his position at the BSHCI and moved back into his home, joined by his cat’s company. Will and Jack declared that the Easter Bunny case was going to remain unsolved unless another victim was found, which wouldn’t happen. The man who stabbed Chilton would be the last body and notch on Chilton’s bloodstained belt. Will and Chilton disposed of any evidence, watching everything incriminating go up in flames as the two of them held hands in the snow by Will’s house.

Will still missed Chilton, when he wasn’t at his house in Wolf Trap. There was eerie remnants of Chilton’s visits, but they never lived up to the real thing, when he was there in the flesh.

Will never regretted the decision to not turn Chilton in, knowing that no one, despite possibly Hannibal, would ever put the two together and point their finger at Chilton.

Will was slowly building the home he longed for, making structure out of the charred pieces of wood from both of their burning fires, ash swirling around them both in tainted halos.

__________

Chilton unlocked the door, his arms tired and loaded with fresh vegetables and various groceries for Will’s visit this weekend. Their relationship was still somewhat on the down-low, although they suspected Will’s coworkers had a tinge of knowledge regarding the nature of his and Will’s growing domesticity.

Chilton padded through the house, realizing lights were on and _oh god—there wasn’t going to be another body he didn’t put there, right?_

“Hello?” Chilton called out, voice somewhat shaky.

Footsteps came from the hall, “Relax, Frederick. It’s only me.”

Chilton breathed a sigh of relief, setting down the bags of groceries. He chuckled. “I thought someone was in the house and going to kill me.”

Will smiled, a glint of humor in his eyes. “If anyone has to worry about being killed, it’s _me_.” He barked out a short laugh, embracing Chilton.

“You know I’ve left that behind me. I’m officially on a no-sugar kind of budget.” Chilton wrapped his arms around Will, resting his head in the crook of Will’s neck, relaxing after a long day.

“Do tell, what would you fill me up with?”

“Only my love, and maybe a _Kit-Kat_ or two.” Chilton grinned, and Will felt Chilton’s arms grip him tighter, breath ghosting his cheek and warmth between Frederick’s heart and his own.

 

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry they are so sweaty and uncomfortable and generally undeserving of love


End file.
